


Rendez-vous

by Lothiriel84



Category: Miss Marple - Agatha Christie, Poirot - Agatha Christie
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-15
Updated: 2013-09-15
Packaged: 2017-12-26 15:42:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/967698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lothiriel84/pseuds/Lothiriel84
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The stranger gracefully ignored the odd glances people were sending his way and finally stopped in front of a nondescript cottage surrounded by a well-kept garden. <br/>He nodded approvingly as he noticed the tidy flowerbeds, then rang the bell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rendez-vous

The stranger gracefully ignored the odd glances people were sending his way and finally stopped in front of a nondescript cottage surrounded by a well-kept garden.

He nodded approvingly as he noticed the tidy flowerbeds, then rang the bell.

The front door opened revealing an angelic-looking old lady – her hair snow-white and her eyes of that pale blue he’d seen once on a Chinese porcelain tea set in a museum.

“Good morning, _mademoiselle_. You don’t know me yet, but…”

The little old lady smiled kindly. “Don’t call me that way, it would make me feel even older than I actually am. And there’s no need for you to introduce yourself. Everybody around here is talking about you.”

“Now you’re flattering me.”

“It’s true. This is a small village, and there’s not that much to talk about. Just a bit of tittle-tattle around our local scandals, but even that gets monotonous after a while.”

“May I come in?”

“Dear me, I’m forgetting my manners. Do come in, I’ll make you tea.”

The stranger winced, then nodded politely. It was quite unlikely for an old spinster to keep any of his favorite beverages, so he would have to put up with a cup of that horrible dark liquid British people always seemed to like so much.

“I gather you’re not here in order to investigate on a case?”

“Guess your local intelligence would have reported it to you otherwise.”

“If you mean the milkman’s boy – well, yes, he would. You know, this being a small village and all that sort of things.”

A red-haired maid entered the living room with a teapot and a tray of muffins. She poured tea into the cups with the same care of a pharmacist preparing a tonic, then retreated shooting nervous glances at the unexpected visitor.

“Seems you’ve made an impression on Gladys.”

The stranger chuckled. “Come on. I’m old enough to be her grandfather.”

“Would that matter? I can tell when she’s flirting, as she was definitely doing a moment ago.”

“It’s true then.”

The old lady tilted her head to one side like a curious little bird. “What’s true?”

“Someone told me you’re one of the most observant persons in England. They were right.”

“I just happen to have a good knowledge of human nature, that’s all.”

“Local police have taken advantage of your knowledge on more than one occasion, I bet.”

“Dear sir Henry Clithering must have told you so. He’s an old friend, and he’s always so kind to me. Do you know him?”

“I never had the pleasure to meet him. However, he and my friend Japp from Scotland Yard had worked together for many years.”

“A most remarkable coincidence. That’s why you came to St. Mary Mead then?”

“ _Exactement, mademoiselle_. I’m nothing more than a curious old man after all.”

“Oh, you’re not old, believe me.”

The stranger laughed heartily. There weren’t that many people that would tell him such a thing these days.

He placed the elegant white china teacup back on its saucer and stood up.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Marple.”

The old lady’s eyes twinkled with amusement.

“My pleasure, Monsieur Poirot. My pleasure.”


End file.
